An odd collection
by swiftwings13
Summary: A collection of unrelated scenes that seized me during my many playthroughs of Dragon Age.
1. A gift of thanks

Just a little scene that popped into my head while playing da:o. I wrote it during the loading screens (soo long!) Note to anyone who reads my Fable 2 fic Copper, ch 3 is coming!

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><p>"Morrigan!"<p>

Morrigan turned to see Istelle bounding towards her, blade drawn.

Morrigan spun back, the guttural cries of darkspawn alerting her to the danger she was in. The witch raised her hands and bolts of lightning streaked from her palms and into the bodies of the darkspawn that had been poised behind her ready to end her life.

"Morrigan get down! Get down!" Istelle was still shouting and Morrigan saw that rest of the group wasn't too far behind her all of them with weapons drawn and battling darkspawn and shrieks.

"Get down!" Istelle was pointing with her free hand at the hill.

Morrigan looked up to the hill's crest and saw at last the threat that Istelle had been trying to warn her against. A Hurlock stood upon the hill, long bow stretched to its fullest and pointed right at her. It released the arrow with a loud twang.

Istelle dropped her sword and ran; she flat out sprinted the last few feet between her and that stupid, blind, blasted witch and then shoved her down to the ground. The arrow hit with a sickening thud and from somewhere behind her, Istelle heard Leliana shriek in Orlesian.

Morrigan pushed herself up quickly, gold eyes scanning the top of the hill for any sign of the Hurlock sniper. She thought she saw the lumpy outline of a corpse with three arrows sticking from it but she didn't spare herself enough time to process completely the Hurlock's fate beyond that it was dead.

"Istelle-"she twisted around on the cold winter ground to look at the young noblewoman who had saved her life.

Istelle looked down slowly at the arrow that protruded from her chest, gasping, a gurgling sound as blood oozed up her throat instead of air from her pierced lung. She coughed, blood splattering Morrigan's face, before she fell.

It was a while before Istelle awakened, sore and drained, to the sight of Morrigan's frowning face. Morrigan moved away silently to allow the young noblewoman room to sit up.

"Careful." Morrigan said in warning.

Istelle nodded and struggled her way into a semblance of a sitting position propped on her elbows. Eyelids fluttered rapidly with a sudden onset of dizziness but Morrigan was there to support her before she went crashing back down onto her sleeping pallet. Istelle leaned gratefully into Morrigan, forgetting for an instant the witch's dislike of physical contact her eyes closed as she breathed in and out.

Morrigan stiffened, her mouth twisting in preparation of some scathing remark, but, for once, she held her tongue.

"Thank you." She whispered instead, fearful of what the words might mean if she spoke them any louder.

Istelle smiled, small and contentedly.

"You are welcome."


	2. a boatride

"Excellent, if we do not drown we shall certainly perish of-"Morrigan 's head disappeared into the bucket she held between her legs.

"Tis only a boat ride, Morrigan, no need to be so dramatic!" Alistair quipped mimicking the witch's old fashioned speech pattern. His face turned a ghastly shade of green as the ship lurched with another wave.

"Both of you keep your heads in your buckets!" Ijenna Suranna growled. Beside her a tan mabari hound growled in echo of his mistress.

"Warden, certainly you enjoy their banter as much as us?" Zevran laughed placing one searching hand on the Ijenna's bare thigh.

Ijenna gently removed the Antivan elf's hand from her thigh and tugged her leather skirt down, "Not when they've been spitting bile, literally, at each other for the entire trip!"

Zevran merely laughed again and turned his attention to the read haired bard who had tucked herself up on the other side of Ijenna and was currently engrossed in a book she had borrowed from Wynne.

"And you my red haired muse?" he prompted.

"I am reading Zevran." Leliana warned as she turned the page.

"Ah but you are listening as well, no?"

"Shut the bloody hell up elf! You're sourin my ale!" Oghren belched and took a swallow from his ale filled water bag.

"Boats are ridiculous contraptions. Why must we all be in one room? Humans do not think." A large Qunari groaned from his spot between the seasick Morrigan and Alistair.

"We think as much as other races, Sten." Wynne replied patiently from behind her knitting.

Morrigan's head reappeared from the depths of her bucket, "So Qunari are uncomfortable in enclosed spaces are they Sten?

"No!" Ijenna pointed ferociously at the large Qunari, "Do not answer her Sten! You, bucket!" she added to Morrigan who was opening her mouth either to vomit again or to make another snide comment Ijenna wasn't quite sure. She crossed her arms, the sooner this boat ride was over the better.


	3. The Mage out of the Tower

Daylen pulled at his robes awkwardly. The problem was that he slept in them last night on a blanket outside in the middle of Ferelden. Of course, that wouldn't have been so bad if he had actually slept last night instead of restlessly rolling around on the ground. The mage glanced at his other companions hopeful that they were encountering the same difficulties with camping that he was.

Alistair seemed relatively comfortable with the situation. He was dressed in his spare linen shirt and pants which were both wrinkled beyond imagining. He had a smear of dirt on his nose and a frown of concentration as he stirred the contents of the scorched pit that hung over the camp fire. Daylen saw Morrigan saunter up behind Alistair like the circle cat approaching a meal and let loose some harsh comment about Alistair's cooking skills. There was something in the exchange, a familiarity that was not present at the start of the campaign that drew Daylen's attention away from his unruly robes. The mage watched the two carefully, noting how close Morrigan was standing to Alistair's back and the careful way Alistair did not turn to look at her as they quarreled.

"Daylen, um your robes-"a small, lyrical voice chimed up from somewhere near the mage's elbow.

"Not now Lyna! I am solving a mystery at this very moment!" Daylen waved the young elf off. Yes, there was definitely something different about those two….

The elf, slight and already dressed in her midriff revealing leathers, tugged gently on his sleeve. "But your robes they're-!"

With a tsk of annoyance, Daylen grabbed Lyna's chin with one hand and forcibly turned her head to face the middle of the camp where Alistair and Morrigan were in animated discussion.

"Can you not see? There are more important things going on, bigger things than the state of my robes! And it is all happening in the middle of camp over our breakfast!"

With her lips pursued into a pout Lyna pulled Daylen's hand from her chin and remarked, "They are arguing, as usual. What is the mystery?"

Blue eyes twinkling, Daylen began to reel off the different clues he had collected. Pure delight accompanied his words and gestures; delight of sharing his superior (in his unbiased opinion) skills of observation. "See how he avoids looking at her? The porridge doesn't need any more stirring yet he continues. And Morrigan is standing so close that she should touch him by accident at least but not once has her skirt so much as brushed his back!"

"Morrigan avoids touching other shem. There is no mystery here, lethallin. About your robes," Lyna rolled her eyes and looked up at Daylen. "Are ye not a wee bit cold?"

Daylen did not hear the elf's comment for he had just deduced the answer to the mystery of Alistair and Morrigan's stiff behavior. "By Wynne's magical bosom they slept together!" he exclaimed, grabbing Lyna by her shoulders and shaking her enthusiastically. "I tell you! Alistair and Morrigan donned the velvet cap as Ohgren our most eloquent dwarf would say! It must have been when we visited Denerim last for they could not dare do it at camp! Morri you saucy witch! Brilliant, simply brilliant!"

"Och, stop! I am getting dizzy!" Lyna cried in protest.

Daylen released Lyna, silently remarking at how thin her shoulders felt. He wondered briefly if he should mention this to her but at the sight of her blinking doe eyes he decided to stay silent. He settled for pinching her cheek affectionately. "Brilliant!"

"I do not believe it. Alistair has more sense than to be exploring her depths." Lyna crossed her arms over her chest and nodded sharply to indicate her deep disapproval of all things Morrigan.

Daylen smiled condescendingly at his friend, "My dear, you have such a limited experience with humans that I am sure you cannot see what is very plain to me. After all these things happened very often in the Circle. Alistair and Morrigan had sex when we last visited Denerim and wish to keep their affair a secret from the rest of us. As a Grey Warden, defender of truth and justice I must tell everyone in camp!"

"Aye," Lyna called after him as he hurried over to Leliana's tent. "But ye might want to cover yer arse before ye catch cold 'oh mighty defender of truth and justice!'"

Daylen quickly felt his rear and was only a little embarrassed to find that the end of his robes had gotten caught up in his belt thus revealing his bottom to the world. Later Daylen would swear that once his bottom was decently covered again that he heard a certain male elf cursing loudly in Antivan.


End file.
